Puckish
by BlueSea14
Summary: Caroline muses on 'Puckish' and her reasoning. Spoilers for that infamous 'first-kiss' episode, 3x09 'The Santa in the Slush'.


_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of "Bones" at all. Nope, none of it is mine. **_

_**A/N—I was thinking, the other day, about Caroline saying that she felt "Puckish" in that infamous Christmas episode. And I came up with the reason why she used that particular word. I didn't see anything about it up, yet, so I hope that I'm right in my assumption of what she was talking about (crosses fingers). **_

_**Enjoy!**_

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You know what's worse than facing a defeat in the courtroom? Ignorance. Especially in people I know.

I have two specific complaints. One is Seeley Booth—the menace to a girl's heart—and the other is Temperance Brennan.

Booth…well, it's easier to forgive him. He has his heart set on what's right for other people—protector until the end—so I can understand that he wants what she wants. The problem? She doesn't know what she wants.

Temperance Brennan doesn't understand a lot, despite her intelligence.

I've known that for as long as I've known her. Prime example? That time in New Orleans, when the girl would not keep her mouth _shut_ when talking to those cops. I thought that she had at least enough common sense to know that they were only looking for an easy target. But little Miss 'Bones' decided that she was going to be a naïve schoolgirl. Pah. I managed to get my job done, at least.

Well, that, and I found out the office gossip was either _already_ true, or it was _going_ to be.

You know, you'd think that people would have more interesting things to talk about than someone's love life. But up and down the inner levels of that FBI building—of which I was constantly in and out of—I heard rumor and speculation. Of course, it was mostly on the floors of those who watched those two walking around all the time. Nobody knows everything about everyone in an office building, after all.

I thought nothing of the rumor the first time (for about a minute, that is). It was a conversation in an elevator, one that I didn't grasp until I'd stepped out, walked a few steps, then paused. (For a lawyer, that was a shameful moment of a severe lack of observation skills—I kept that to myself).

"_Hey, who did Cullen say had that case?"_

"_Agent Booth." _

"_Who's that?"_

"_The one banging the hot doctor."_

"_Oh—the Jeffersonian squint, right?" _

"_Yeah, that's the one."_

The words were so startling that I had barely comprehended them. That's what I thought at the time, at least—that it was so startling to hear two rookies gossiping over one of my (never tell him this) favorite agents and his partner.

It took me a few days to realize that I hadn't processed the words because…well, because it was so _obvious_. My mind had run away ahead of me, already accepting the idea as possible before I even understood it. I wasn't shocked at what I heard because it sounded so right. I would have thought the same thing about them without Seeley's serious denials (and that man meant his word when he gave it).

That's why I think the most important, _telling_ part of all the office gossip was the way it was delivered.

It wasn't interns standing around coffee filters, chatting on and on about the two like it was a particularly interesting soap opera and they had no lives besides watching someone else's. It wasn't agents watching and whispering behind their backs when Brennan and Booth walked down a hallway together, bickering fondly. It wasn't betting pools and the focus of every person, every workday, in the building.

No, the gossip was much more subtle, and hardly able to be labeled 'gossip'.

It was glances at the pair of them, noting and then looking away as if it were normal. It was offhand comments when a rookie didn't know who an older agent was talking about—"_You know Booth, the one whose partner is hot? Don't think about touching her, she's with him." _It was female agents refraining from flirting with Booth—at first only when Brennan was around, and then even when she wasn't.

It was male agents not even considering her a _possibility_ (because they were scared of what Booth would do to them).

So, the talk wasn't a fascination of something that was imaginary—it was the casual _acceptance_ of an assumption.

Of _course_ they were _together_ together, how could they not be? Of _course_ she/he was off-limits, they were so inseparable they _had_ to be in a relationship. (Of _course_ they're walking down the hallway together and arguing).

Booth's little "partner" spiel had never worked. Everyone knew it. We all raised an eyebrow when he said it. We could all see the lie. Others, people who didn't really know him, didn't believe him because they _wanted_ to be right.

I didn't believe him because I _was _right.

That man was in love with his partner, whether he admitted it (realized it) or not. And usually, he wasn't admitting it (but by now, he definitely realized it).

He never said it out loud, but he didn't need words. That man had the most expressive face that I had ever seen. Whenever she was around, his eyes were locked on her like she was a masterful piece of artwork (one of those ones that people cry over and say has so much 'feeling' in it). His eyes grew brighter, his face relaxing. And he had a smile that only came out when he saw her.

So by the time New Orleans came around, I was prepared by the assumptions and theories (because no one had any proof besides the naked-eye-obviousness of the closeness between the two). I was more prepared than Cullen for that boy to catch the first flight out there, that's for sure. He wasn't one of the gossip hounds that roamed the halls (not that I am, I just overhear things) and it took this incident for him to realize what was going on between Booth and the Squint—but he's a romantic (yeah, 'she who cast the first stone'…what_ever_).

Anyway, like I said, it came as no surprise that Seeley Booth was down in New Orleans as fast as he could be. He was right at Brennan's side the whole time, believing in her even when she didn't seem to believe in herself. I even heard about that earring stunt (through Miss Montenegro, fellow observer of the Dynamic Duo).

That boy had missed her the whole time she was gone. I came to him a few times for material for a court case, and he was himself—but not. Just a little quieter, just a little more absent-minded. I remembered seeing him this way about his son, when he wasn't able to see him one weekend.

Which all revolves back around to how oblivious Temperance Brennan is when it comes to a lot of things that the rest of us take for granted. She doesn't see how much that man loves her.

But really, I've digressed _far_ too much. I had a point with this, you know? There was a method to the madness on the page. The point is this: I have a confession. Relating to Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan. The two most obstinately, decisively avoidant people I have _ever_ known.

You see, this year, I had decided to take matters into my own hands with a little…_inspiration_ from classic literature. Shakespeare, to be precise.

Ah, Puck. The dear little fairy with the love spell.

Poor Booth and Brennan. They never even noticed, the poor dears. I'm sure that if they _had_ decided to think about it, they would have caught on to what I was up to. I thought that Brennan was a well-read woman, and that she was more likely to catch the reference than Booth. But neither of them seemed to understand what I meant when I told her that I felt "Puckish".

So, I set them up without their knowledge about the true nature of my request. I was going to make them kiss each other even if I had to blackmail that dear girl to do it. And by some miracle, they followed through with it. I was a bystander, intent on making sure it happened—bearing witness to the moment—and simultaneously hoping for…well, _something_.

I'll admit it (only here, nowhere else): I'm a bit of a romantic. I'd hoped they would recognize that tension between themselves that everyone else has seen from day one. I'd hoped that I was setting them up to admit to one another that they did feel something.

I was being Puckish.

I told Brennan (in a roundabout way) what I was up to. And it was true—I was that obnoxious little fairy. I became Puck. I tried to set up the two dear ignoramuses (but unlike the namesake, I actually set up the _correct_ people). I had forgotten, of course, the significance of that part of the story.

Puck didn't do his job right.

Neither did I manage to do my job right (okay, the blackmail backfired, but the concept applies to 'job'). So, while Brennan and Booth remained ignorant of the point behind 'I feel Puckish', they also obtusely missed the point of their kiss (which, by the way—_what_ a kiss that was!).

You'd think that neither of them could keep denying their feelings for one another when it was so _obvious_ they couldn't tear away from one another.

Heck, what am I _saying_? It's Booth and Brennan. Of _course_ they managed to deny it.

I could sit here and sigh all day, but there's really not a lot else to say in my confession. Other than that they are _far_ too adept at trying to avoid the pink elephant in the room. I'd have refrained from getting involved at all, considering that I should have known how my interference would go. I pulled a Brennan on this one (missing what was right in front of me).

It was childish. It was immature. But I was feeling…

Puckish.

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_**A/N—So, that is my theory on "Puckish". And that's also my theory on the rumors about Brennan and Booth—because come on, how are Booth's coworkers NOT talking about them? Brennan's do. :) I wanted it to be more realistic, though, so that's why I made a point of what Caroline's saying about it.**_

_**Thanks for reading! **_


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